At Tallahassee I Saw In The Streets, In Charge Of A Ruffianly-Looking Fellow, Two Negroes, With Heavy Iron Collars Round Their Necks.

These were captured run-aways; the collars, which must have weighed seven or ten pounds, had spikes projecting on either side. One of the poor creatures had hold of the spikes as he walked along to ease the load that pressed painfully on his shoulders.

General Murat resided at the time in this neighbourhood; he is the brother of Jehoiachin, ex-king of Naples, and owns a large plantation, and, I was told, upwards of two hundred negroes, who were described as being humanely treated by him. This, however, is a very indefinite term, where all slave-owners profess to do the same, though the poor wretches over whom by law they impiously assume God's heritage, in ninety cases out of every hundred, are scantily clothed, worse fed than horses or mules, and worked to the utmost extent of human endurance, the humanity being, in most cases, left to the tender mercies of a brutal overseer, who exacts all he can. If the poor, tattered, squalid-looking beings I saw in Tallahassee be a fair specimen of the "humane treatment" I have referred to, heaven help them.

General Murat, some years ago, married an American lady, who delighted in being called the "princess," a little piece of vanity quite in keeping with the aristocratical prejudices of American females in the south, who are devoted worshippers of lordly institutions and usages.

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